Bone Deep
by Americana Psychotica
Summary: It hadn't been like this at first. At first, it had been a game - a lot like their old interactions, peppered with true anger and a lingering, aching pain, the need for love they'd never receive from the other in an eternity of wars.


She crawled over the dark bed and draped herself over him, nuzzling his stubble-covered jaw. "Why are we doing this? I gain nothing, and you have never had anything to gain." He rolled over, forcing her under him.

"I know...and I do not care." She dragged her hands over the blood red silk and arched up against him, struggling slightly – old habits die hard.

"Do you ever?" He forced her down again and dropped his head, nuzzling the crook of her neck.

"When we are alone...usually in battle..." She shuddered and let her head fall back against the black pillows, digging her nails into the sheets underneath her, giving him more access to the skin of her throat. He nipped her lightly, slowly increasing the pressure until she cried out in shock when her skin broke and a warm trickle of blood ran down her throat and onto her chest. He followed the trail with his tongue, before returning to her throat, pressing a kiss to the small wound, feeling it close beneath his lips. She wove her fingers through his hair and sighed, then gasping and shivering as he moved off her, leaving her body cold. The thin silk did nothing to warm her – nothing warmed her when he was gone. He returned almost immediately when she reached up and trailed cold fingers down his spine, lingering over the roaring chimera crouched as if to strike on his back. The colors blurred as the choking loneliness suddenly surged forward, threatening to still all breath, when he pulled her forward, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her face. She cupped his face, tracing around his eyes and over his jaw almost absently, before sinking her fingers into his hair, curling them in the ebony locks, pale blue eyes locking with darkened indigo ones. His eyes slid closed, and he tilted his head away.

Inexplicable fury lanced through her at the slight movement, and she forced him to face her again, kissing him roughly. She winced when their teeth met, before she forced her tongue into his hot mouth, digging her nails into his scalp as she forced him backwards, dominating the kiss almost desperately. He jerked away from her, pushing her back and rising from the bed in a fluid motion she couldn't help but envy. His motions were always perfect, even in the midst of bloody battle, and the sight of him staring down at her with a mixture of anger and lust, his every muscle frozen in indecision, left her breathless and on the verge of tears. She sank her fingers into the bed sheets, forcing herself to stare at the floor. Her vision wavered, the ground turning hazy as she was half-blinded by uncontrollable emotion and tears. She bit her lip to control the onslaught, barely noticing the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth even as her entire body tensed at the sound of the door slamming behind him. She didn't move, though every inch of her screamed to follow him. She would not lower herself to this – she didn't _need _him...

The everlasting cold rose in her, freezing her breath before she drew it, turning the tears to ice before they could fall. The loneliness clamped down on her heart, and dread eagerly sought out her mind, shrouding it, when his voice ripped her from the anguish. Warmth engulfed her as his song penetrated her slowly dying mind, and she clung to it, gasping as the cold retreated at the onslaught of heat. She felt his weight over her and laid down, curling into the fetal position, sighing as his warmth wrapped around her. He pressed light kisses to the back of her neck, singing under his breath. She fell into sleep's embrace to the sound of his lullaby, his ever loving song.

* * *

><p>She woke to his soft breathing, curled into his arms, the thin silk sheet twisted haphazardly around them – her nightmares had woken him, and he'd restrained her; she knew because there was no blood on the sheets, and she bore no fresh wounds. Warm fingers tapped an absent beat on her hip, alerting her to his waking.<p>

"You need to leave." She stirred, surprised. He rarely spoke to the secret state of their relationship, never even implied, and had never voiced such a dismissal before. She rarely stayed the night, and had never before shown such weakness as last night.

"Waiting for Aphrodite?"

"Aphrodite has no bearing on our relationship – I say you need to leave because I know Father will want to speak to you before Helios makes even a quarter of his round." She sat up, watching him stretch lazily and pull away from her, bracing herself for the wave of cold. Normally it didn't happen for some time – a few hours, at least. But of late, it had gotten worse, to the point that merely being near him could force it back, but it would return the moment she was a few yards away. It surged through her, causing her to gasp and shake. She had barely dragged the heavier covers up when he'd rejoined her, pulling her into his arms and stroking her back gently.

* * *

><p>It hadn't been like this, at first. At first, it had been a game – a lot like their old interactions, peppered with true anger and a lingering, aching pain, the need for the love they'd never receive from the other in an eternity of wars. She'd been bitter, distant, yet clung to him, as if every moment together soothed some pain, gave her something to hold on to, gave her a reason for existing. Then she'd started coming more and more often, and he'd noticed the iciness that hung around her. The barely noticeable spasms that had passed undetected by the others got worse; her nightmares grew more violent, to the point where she was literally clawing at her own skin, trying to free herself of something. He pretended he didn't notice the web of scars on her arms and the hair thin scar on her throat – cowardice had won out and saved her from herself, but with each day he feared whatever was crushing her was winning. He knew as she did not that this would never end. He relished in the emptiness that erased the guilt and the savage hungers – she drowned in it, struggled to breathe in its hold, died a little bit with each defeat at its hands. She existed in a void, oblivious to the fawning masses, untouched by the admiration and affection.<p>

He existed in exile, given a thin veneer to cover his gaping wounds and ordered to grin and bear it, as if he was the emotionless, mindless, bloodthirsty killer they all believed him to be. They clashed again and again over what they couldn't control, and he felt himself being pushed farther and farther away with each argument, until he existed far from the paradise of the false heaven they all reigned in, laughing at mortal folly even as mortals laughed at their immortal one. He moved through the human world, did not need the constant worship, did not even attempt to gain it, and held it in disgust, reviling his _family's _pathetic dependence on it.

They were forever bound to each other by what they could never have with each other, so long as she depended on the rules their father had placed upon them, as long as she refused to defy what was killing her.

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed through high windows, each tinged gold as the light gathered and blazed in transparent silver. Marble pillars soared overhead, disappearing into the ever shifting mist above, obscuring the ceiling, if there even was one. None of the second generation Olympians knew – Zeus was not known for sharing Olympus's secrets. Most of that second generation was still asleep – Helios had just set out, and Eos had not yet returned to her brother's kingdom. However, Zeus had not gained the throne and <em>remained <em>there by following his childrens' example; he was often petty and crude, but he was not _stupid_. He woke far earlier than the others, save for possibly his wife – Hera was a night owl, and preferred Nyx's reign to that of the sun's. He examined a lightning bolt resting in the quiver hanging at the side of his throne, contemplating his wife absently. It had not yet come to pass that he had mended his ways, if it would ever – and yet, with each new lover, he found something of his wife in them, be it in personality or appearance. The connection was often small, negligent, but it was there every time, and he could not yet fathom why he continued to avoid and neglect her when she was everything he had ever wanted. Be it known that Zeus was complex, and often he didn't even understand himself.

"My lord. You are restless, and the eve has not yet fallen. Tell me, what weighs on your mind?" Her formality was cold, a wall against any further advance. They were always like this now – him struggling to regain some sort of intimacy, her pushing him away, over and over, and he knew it was taking a toll on both of them. More and more often, he couldn't find comfort away from home; more and more often, her passionate nature exploded into violence and anger, echoing their son uncannily.

"My lord?" He turned and met her dark eyes squarely, searching for something – anything but anger.

"It is nothing to be concerned about, Hera. My sleep was undermined by some unconscious discomfort." The anger was momentarily overshadowed by melancholy smugness. She inclined her head and glided back to her throne, only a few feet to his right, yet so much further with the emotional gulf that had steadily widened with the passing of ages. Her own guilt at her treatment of innocent women flared constantly, like a piece of glass resting on an open wound – every motion pressing it in deeper, opening the wound wider, leaving her vulnerable to infection of the soul, until she became the very thing she hated most. That combination of always pushing away the man who should have been her strongest support and fighting growing guilt left her drained, a husk of the woman she'd once been, the woman she should be. He started when she snapped a fan open and shut, eyes hooded.

"Athene. You seem...ill, perhaps. What is wrong?" He let his eyes fall to his daughter, taking in her stance. She normally stood erect, back straight, eyes forward, a smirk hovering on the edge of her mouth – so arrogant, and somehow she managed to be coy at the same time. Her presence was, at best, powerful; at worst, overpowering and obnoxious. Her current posture spoke to none of these traits; she was slouching a bit, arms folded protectively around her waist, eyes lowered. He silently noticed her darting gaze, and followed it slowly to where his eldest stood in the shadows, back straight, eyes never wavering from the goddess standing before the two divine monarchs.

"Athene?" She swallowed and nodded, seeming to steel herself as she straightened, forcing herself to meet her father's eyes. Ares melted out of the room, not bothering to speak a farewell.

"I...understood that you might wish to speak to me?"

"That request rests solely on my queen's shoulders, bright eyes. I will return when you have finished your business here." Hera accepted the parting comment with an absent inclination of her head, eyes resting on the uncomfortable woman before her.

"You've been neglecting what few duties you have to the people of Athens, Athene." The war goddess swallowed, wincing. She'd forgotten – no, she'd _disregarded_ – Athens. It was too vulnerable, a weakness that she might very well destroy in her attempts to save it. It would appear they suffered with or without her.

* * *

><p>Hera's eyes scanned her stepdaughter, eyeing her posture with concern and frustration. Whatever was draining her of her spirit was also keeping her from performing her duties, and she could not live as an Olympian without some sacrifice. They all had something they owed humanity, and they answered those heartfelt prayers when the mortal could not do something about the problem on their own. She could easily become like Hestia, close to humanity and far from her family, or worse – she could become like Ares, reviled by everyone, for no reason more than he could not change what he was. She brought her attention back to the younger goddess, straining to hear her faint voice.<p>

"Athene?"

"Give it to Poseidon." Hera felt shock radiate through her as the rhythmically tapping fan came to an abrupt halt, skittering across the marble when it fell from her loose grip. She summoned it back to her hand, letting the delicate object rest on the arm of the throne as she rose and descended the short steps to stand before Athene.

She started when cool hands touched her skin and quickly warmed. Hera seemed cold to most, but she was nearly as warm as her son in reality – so warm that she could not easily hold up the facade of icy and remote. One could see this every day when watching her interactions with her husband, few as those were. She was a woman of deep, intense emotion, and her attempts to distance herself from Zeus grew feebler with every subsequent argument. The queen of the gods held her chin gently but firmly, indigo gaze – so like Ares's – boring into her own pale blue eyes.

"Athene, I will only say this once. I can see that you are faltering. Time takes a toll on us all – we are not infallible. However difficult it becomes, if you do not fight, you will fall, and none of us will be able to restore you. Perhaps this is the result of too many wars, too little affection among us and the mortals below. It does not matter. Only you can bring yourself back to your former glory. You were once considered the best of us – what are you now, but a shivering little girl struggling for love and light in ever growing darkness?" She let go and stepped back, expression softening some.

"Athens was once your greatest joy. If you truly believe Poseidon is the better benefactor to the Athenians, give Athens to him. Be warned that it is not so simple as it seems. If the Athenians rebel against a new patron, they will become godless – our ears will not receive their pleas, and they will perish. Know this and choose carefully." She struggled to force herself to swallow, but the painful sensation made it impossible; tears were rising, against her better judgment, in defiance to her feeble composure. Hera knew, of course, the toll this demand took on her – while their struggles were not very similar, she understood the suffering of the soul, especially given the bond gods formed with those who considered them their patrons.

"Hera..." The queen's gaze did not waver, and Athene felt old pride stir in frustration at her weak tone.

"I – I will reaffirm my affections for the people of Athens. This...has been a troubling time, but it will not defeat me." The queen nodded once, slowly, and Athene felt her stomach sink at the almost imperceptible skepticism in those dark eyes.

"I am glad you understand, Athene; I know this has been a difficult time, and the struggles are not those most of the pantheon would understand, but you are truly devoted to your people – you will have no troubles acclimating yourself to their needs once more." Athene fought the urge to bite her lip and nodded slowly, falling into step as the slightly taller woman led them out towards the gardens Demeter tended specifically for Hera's occupation.

* * *

><p>Pomegranate trees sprawled out lazily behind low, flower studded hedges that formed a small maze; it led to a small center area where the queen of the gods could often be found, surrounded by strangely quiet peacocks of odd, fantastic coloration, ranging from the original color scheme to gold, black, and albino variations, among others. One ancient pomegranate tree, its branches twisting together to form a gnarled, leafy awning over the single low couch beneath it, stood in the center of the clearing. Two more, smaller couches flanked it, and a small table sat in the center of the small semi-circle they formed. Hera sank slowly onto the central couch, fingers trailing over the arm as a blonde youth materialized from the shadows, kneeling in one smooth motion beside the couch, jug of wine resting almost lazily on his shoulder, eyes averted. Hera seemed surprised by his appearance. He spoke softly, answering her unasked question in a monotone.<p>

"Hebe's delicate state has proven more difficult for her than we previously believed – she is in no state to serve..." The queen's eyes flickered, and she nodded, touching his head gently.

"Thank you, Ganymede." Tension slowly left his shoulders, and with the slightest of nods, he removed himself from the goddesses's presence. Hera twirled a pale metal goblet and nodded to the jug, watching it pour the shimmering nectar and glide to Athene's side. One of the peacocks strutted over, opening his tail and shaking the feathers with a trill. The queen dropped her hand and beckoned, smiling as the peacock strutted beneath her hand, fingers trailing through the feathers absently. Athene stared despondently into her own goblet, breathing shallowly. One of the trees seemed to sigh above her, and then-

"Beloved majesty, spritely Aphrodite seeks an audience. Shall we open the way?" The peacocks spoke in unison, their voices dark and low with tamped down malice. Hera's eyes fluttered, and the slim fingers cupping the goblet clenched sharply.

"Mm. Very well." The peacocks fluttered and squawked, moving to flank their mistress.

"Enter."

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><p>AN: OMGYAY! Alrighty. I dropped in and, bored out of my skull, searched Ares on ffnet for the hell of it. The first thing to pop up was under mythology, much to my surprise. I didn't even know this area existed. o.o; BUT NOW I KNOW, AND DAMN I'M EXCITED! Seriously, this is awesome. I practically write fanfiction for the Greco-Roman pantheons in my sleep, among others. I originally posted this on fictionpress, but I didn't feel like it fit there and deleted it, and then that ^ freak occurrence happened and voila~!

SO! This is going to be ongoing for a while because the whole thing is loooooooooooong and unfinished. Some of the stuff is going to be iffy, because I bring in things under this core rule;

They're gods, and they don't adhere to our rules of time and space.

Beyond that, this focuses on Ares and Athene's relationship, followed by that of Zeus and Hera. If you're one of those people who is a mythology nitpicker, don't touch this. Seriously, I am going to ruin everything as far as I know. XD

Rated M for implied stuff and language, likely.

Oh, yip. Toodles, people. XD


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